


Dying in Your Arms

by ChillieBean



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Body Horror, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Swearing, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: Hanzo is critically injured, and in an attempt to keep him conscious, he and Jesse spend their time trading stories while waiting for help to arrive.





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Dying in Your Arms! As the title and tags suggest, this fic contains heavy angst. I assure you that it does have a happy ending, but there's a lot of stuff that happens between now and then, and if heavy angst isn't your thing, then it's best not to read this.
> 
> While I don't consider the injury depicted in this fic to be graphic, do keep in mind that I do mention blood and describe the injury itself in detail. I've tagged body horror to cover my bases, as I know some folks are more squeamish than I.
> 
> This fic was written and inspired by Target Practice's first birthday! Why celebrate a single day when you can celebrate an entire week, right?! So, I'll be posting a chapter every day for the next seven days, fingers crossed at the same time, too!
> 
> Prompts will appear at the start of each chapter, 'cause I'm keeping things spoiler free!
> 
> I wish to extend the biggest of thanks to my beta, Magisey. Dude, I know I sprung this on you a couple days ago, and the fact you had the time to read it _and_ beta means the world to me! I couldn't have asked for a more perfect friend  <3
> 
> For those who made it this far in the notes, I do hope you enjoy this fic. It was an absolute blast to write, I threw myself way outside my comfort zone and I'm totally in love with this piece.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 prompt: Firsts

“Hanzo!”

Panic and adrenaline and anxiety pull at Jesse’s insides. He can feel a trickle of sweat fall down the side of his face and he wipes it away, catching a glimpse of the red-brown streak on the back of his hand. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, pressing his fingertips to his temple and inching them up under his hat— “Fuck!” he hisses, jerking his hand back and wincing from the sharp pain. Inspecting his fingers, they are covered in blood. He knew he hit his head, thrown back from the force of the explosion, but didn’t realise it was  _ that _ bad. He probably has a concussion, but that’s not the worry now. 

The worry is finding Hanzo. 

Ignoring the head wound, Jesse trudges over the debris, crawling through the doorway and into another room of the Talon laboratory. It was supposed to be abandoned. Long abandoned, actually, but of course it wasn’t, and once again Overwatch came in underprepared; something which is becoming more common recently.

He will have words with Winston once he and Hanzo are safe within the walls of the watchpoint.

Looking around this room, another room with the wall blown in, with desks and chairs and chunks of concrete strewn all over the place, he brings his hands up to cup around his mouth. “Hanzo!” he shouts, before listening for a reply… and is met with silence.

“Gonna fuckin’ quit after this,” he mutters, climbing through the hole in the wall and into a corridor. “Fuckin’ had enough of this.” He stumbles, falling on his hands and knees, barely missing being impaled right through the face by a piece of rebar sticking out of a chunk of concrete. Taking a breath, he stands cautiously, wiggles his fingers and bends his knees, testing himself for injuries and comes out fine. “I’m too old for this shit.”

Dusting his hands, he walks down the length of the corridor, over and around more debris. He can see the particulate matter in the streams of light from the sun through the cracks in the roof, and tries in vain to keep his breathing shallow. “If there’s somethin’ toxic in this shit, Winston’ll never hear the end of th—”

He stops suddenly, hearing a rustle and a creak echo off the walls. Unholstering Peacekeeper, he closes his eyes to try and focus on the source of the sound. It’s probably the building about to collapse in on itself more than anything. Not that he really cares; he ain’t leaving till he finds Hanzo. And if the building falls on him before that happens, then he’ll make sure his ghost will haunt Winston for all eternity.

After a long moment of silence, Jesse continues walking. He tries to picture in his mind the layout of this building, heading to Hanzo’s last known location. He hopes, prays to whoever’ll listen that Hanzo is just unconscious, that he’s not dead somewhere under a metric ton of rubble.

Jesse swallows down the nausea with that thought.

“Goddamnit,” he mutters, seeing the corridor completely caved in ahead. “Why d’you gotta test me?” he seethes, looking back the way he came. He passed another hole in the wall a little bit back, which should get him closer to Hanzo. So he backtracks, holsters Peacekeeper as he stands in front of the hole which is way too small for him to fit. Sucking in a deep as possible breath, he crawls through the narrow hole which barely accommodates his frame, releasing it once his legs are through. 

“Hey, Winston,” he starts, standing up and dusting his legs—only to realise that is the stupidest idea right now. He looks around the empty and somewhat surprisingly undamaged room, walking up to the door. “Me an’ Hanzo have had enough of this shit. We ain’t gonna get ourselves killed ‘cause your intel keeps fucking us over.” He opens the door, pauses when the roof above him creaks, spilling dust onto the floor. “We’re out,” he finishes, once he is certain the roof won’t collapse on him.

“Jesse?”

Jesse’s heart leaps into his throat, and he frantically looks around. “Hanzo?”

“In here.” 

Jesse follows the sound of Hanzo’s coughing through the next room. The door, blown off its hinges, lays on the floor. Hanzo must’ve been close to one of the explosions.

Breathing rapid and shallow, Jesse searches the room. Definitely more rubble than he has seen in a while, this room looks like it was some sort of kitchen, with broken glass and ceramic littering the floor, the mangled remains of the fridge, its door blown off and resting on the opposite wall, and the faucet spraying water upwards onto the ceiling and dripping onto the floor. 

Jesse hears another cough, this time from the corner of the room, and he races over. He can see Hanzo’s legs, and it appears he is sitting up against the wall, perhaps he used the table which is over him as cover. In any case, with his prosthetic arm, he pulls the table off him, and his heart sinks, seeing Hanzo slumped against the wall, focusing on the rebar sticking out of his chest.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, crouching beside him. Hanzo smiles, reaches out with his hand, and Jesse takes it, holding him tight. “Thought I lost you,” he says, choking back a sob.

“It is going to take more than an explosion for me to be taken from this life,” Hanzo says, voice hoarse. He looks at the rebar, touching around the area. “Though I think I might be in trouble.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, looking at it. It is sticking out of the right side of his chest, so it’s at least nowhere near his heart. It's just below his shoulder, but has entered on a downward angle;  hopefully it's missed his lung. Jesse’s not a doctor, and anatomy sure as shit ain’t his strong suit. But still, he has enough combat training to know that this needs tending to. “Has it gone all the way through?”

Hanzo nods, leans forward and coughs. The bar has gone through, all right, tore right through his shirt and is hanging out a good inch in the middle of his back, quite close to his spine. Hanzo leans back against the wall, blood trickling out of his mouth, and that answers Jesse’s question about it damaging his lung.

“Take it easy,” Jesse says, sitting next to Hanzo. Swiping Hanzo’s mouth with his thumb, he clears the blood away and wipes it on his jeans. He reaches for Hanzo’s backpack, opening it and pulling out his canteen, holding it up to Hanzo’s lips, and Hanzo takes a cautious drink. “Don’t wanna do more damage,” Jesse says as he fastens the cap.

“A good point.” Hanzo looks at Jesse, smile teasing his lips. “I should have figured I would hear you complaining instead of you calling my name.”

“Hey, I was callin’ out for you.” Jesse kisses Hanzo’s head, breathes in like he always does on pure instinct to smell that hint of pomegranate that’s in his shampoo, but is met with the distinct smell of iron. He closes his eyes and refuses to move; he gets the sinking feeling he is on borrowed time right now. 

Jesse pushes that feeling aside. Hanzo needs medical attention if he’s going to make it out of here with minimal damage. Pulling away, Jesse smiles. “Just caught me sayin’ what I’m gonna say to Winston when we get outta here.” He looks at the six inches of rebar sticking out of Hanzo’s chest, the hole in his shirt, the trickle of blood from the wound. He would have expected more, but supposes the rebar is keeping it all in. External blood loss is minimal, but internal bleeding is a damn guarantee, and right now, there’s nothing he can do about that, not with the basic medkit. 

“It sounded like you wanted to quit.”

“Yup.” Jesse pulls the medkit from Hanzo’s backpack. “You don’t?”

“This comes with the job.”

“It don’t actually. I worked with Blackwatch for near on twelve years, not once was I caught in an explosion like this. Us gettin’ injured… It’s happening too frequently, and now it’s got you hurt real bad.”

“I will be fine.”

“You  _ will _ be fine when I can get in contact with Angie and get us the fuck outta here,” Jesse mutters, looking at the bar. He takes a steadying breath; getting angry won’t help the situation. “A’ight, I ain't a doctor, but I've dealt with impalings in the past. There's no way we can remove the thing, so we're going to have to stabilise it with bandages, minimise the amount it moves to stop it from doing any more damage.” He looks at Hanzo, at the way he's slumped against the wall. He’s essentially only resting against it with his shoulders. “Are you comfortable? We can't lie you down.”

“I will manage.”

Jesse chews his lip and nods. He can’t sit up more than he is, not without pushing against the bar. “Okay,” he breathes, opening the medkit. He pulls out a roll of bandages and a pair of scissors. He looks at the biotic ampules, picks up the case and wonders if he should administer one, but isn't sure if he should let Hanzo's body start to heal with the bar still in him. He sighs, placing the vials back in the kit and grabbing a pain killer. “This is weak as piss, but should help take the edge off.” He uncaps the syringe, pulls up the sleeve of Hanzo's t-shirt and injects him, tossing the spent syringe away. 

Hanzo hums, and Jesse can see the relief on his face. 

“Better?”

Hanzo nods, looking at the scissors in Jesse's hand. “I quite like this shirt, I'll have you know.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the shirt was ruined before I got here. With this bar and all the blood,” he jokes, winking. It earns him a smile and a nod, and Jesse is thankful that Hanzo is in relatively good spirits. “Tell you what. I'll buy you another one when we're outta here. Exact same: light grey, v-neck, tight as fuck.”

Hanzo huffs a laugh. “Deal.”

“Now, I gotta cut you out of your shirt.”

“Anything to see me shirtless,” Hanzo  _ tsks _ , exaggeratingly rolling his eyes. 

“Y’know how much I love you shirtless,” Jesse says, waggling his eyebrows. He breathes a sigh of relief, he's so glad Hanzo is in good spirits. It's good, he's strong, help will be here at any moment and soon enough this little adventure will be behind them. 

He makes quick work of cutting the shirt away, focusing on the front and bandaging around the rebar before getting Hanzo to lean forward so he can quickly work on the back. Jesse notes that Hanzo's skin feels warm, and factoring in his behaviour, he doesn't seem like he's in shock. When he's done, he rests Hanzo against the wall cautiously and kisses his forehead before sitting next to him. 

“You comfortable? I can give you the serape if you’re cold.”

“I am fine.” Hanzo looks at Jesse, small smile on his face. “Stop worrying.”

Jesse takes a breath and holds it. Trust Hanzo, sitting here impaled on a piece of rebar to say he's fine. And to stop worrying. Silly man. “Ain't gonna happen,” Jesse says with a wink, indulging in this little game. 

Reaching in his pocket for his comm, he pulls it out of standby, and Athena’s logo rotates round and round on the screen, but doesn’t change from there. In the corner is a ‘x’ indicating that it isn’t connecting with the watchpoint. “We’re out of comm range,” Jesse sighs. “Hopefully they’ll come soon enough.”

There is a moment of silence, and Jesse listens to Hanzo’s breathing. It’s laboured, forced and shallow, far from the deep, rhythmic nature Jesse’s used to. He listens to it for one moment too long, then he has a jarring realisation. “Shit, Hanzo, you gotta stay awake.”

“I am awake,” he says with a chuckle. “This is quite uncomfortable, not to mention painful.”

“Good. ‘Cause you know fallin’ asleep is bad, right.”

“Yes,” Hanzo groans, rolling his eyes and looking at Jesse.

Jesse can’t help but smile. “You must be fine if you’re still able to throw sass at me.” He shrugs playfully. “Seems I got nothin’ to worry about.” 

“Save your worry,” Hanzo says with a smile, resting his head back against the wall. He winces, and Jesse realises now, like a damn moron, that he should check Hanzo for other injuries.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

“I knocked my head when I was thrown backwards, I checked that first, there was no blood, thankfully.”

“Yeah, didn’t see any blood. Anywhere else?” 

“I don’t think so.” He looks at his feet, then back at Jesse, smiling softly. “No.”

“A’ight. Now, do you know where we are?”

“Abandoned Talon laboratory, thought to be used by Moira O’Deorain. We are here to gather intelligence, anything we could find to use to build a case against her. Except the building was not abandoned, it was very much still in use, albeit empty. We unknowingly triggered the security system which resulted in several explosions. And here we are.”

“Good,” Jesse breathes. He remembers those details too, so it must mean he isn’t concussed either. “It don’t seem like you’ve got a concussion, and the only injury is from the rebar. I don’t wanna move you, not unless it’s absolutely necessary.” He sighs, taking Hanzo’s hand again. “Seems we’re here for the long haul.”

“It will be fine.” Hanzo licks his lips, looking at Jesse. “This is not the first time we have been here.”

Jesse frowns. Perhaps his earlier diagnosis that Hanzo was not concussed was wrong. “Han, this is the first time we’ve been in this building.”

“Not physically here. In this situation.”

It takes Jesse a moment, but he smiles when he figures it out. “Yeah,” he chuckles, “‘cept the roles were reversed. I’d been injured, and you were dotin’ all over me.”

“I do not ‘dote’.”

“Yeah, you all but fluffed my pillows for me.”

“I think we are remembering different events.”

“We were chasin’ Talon. One of the few times we thought we had the upper hand.” Jesse huffs a sardonic laugh. “Little did we fuckin’ know that we walked right into a trap. Got a chest-full of bullets which the chestplate thankfully caught, but one pierced my side, right up near my armpit. Nearly destroyed my lung, if I remember correctly.”

“That is the event.”

“I ah… also remember it bein’ the first time we kissed.”

Hanzo hums, looks up at Jesse with a sheepish smile. “Tell me that story.”

Jesse closes his eyes; he can feel the late afternoon summer sun baking his bare skin. His completely ruined shirt and chestplate sit strewn beside him, and  an archery calloused hand grips his bicep, keeping his arm lifted above his head .

And calloused fingertips also poke and prod around the bullet’s entry wound.

“Ow. OW! God fuckin’ damnit, Hanzo! Take it easy!”

“Quiet,” Hanzo barks.

Jesse squeezes his eyes shut tighter and takes a steadying breath to keep the nausea at bay. “What do you see?”

“Blood.”

“Har har.”

“That is not a good thing.”

“I’ve been shot,” Jesse says, opening his eyes and looking at Hanzo. “Of course there’s gonna be blood.”

“You have no exit wound. The bullet is still inside you.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” Hanzo’s eyes snap to meet Jesse’s. “‘Oh’.”

“Anyone tell you you’re a snarky bastard when you wanna be?” Jesse huffs. “I’ve been shot, the least you can do is put on your best bedside manner.”

Hanzo pulls away slowly, single eyebrow raised. “You have been shot approximately five centimetres below your armpit. We have spent the better part of three days chasing down this Talon lead, and we have been absent a shower. You do not exactly smell like roses.”

Well… Jesse can feel the heat creep up to his cheeks. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Guess it’s not the best place to have been shot, hey?”

“In the grand scheme of things,” Hanzo sighs, pressing a dressing to the wound, “better here than in your chest absent your chestplate. Apply pressure”

Jesse presses his other hand to the dressing, wincing at the pain. “Groin woulda been a pain in the ass.”

Hanzo huffs a laugh. “It would have made things awkward.” Hanzo turns around and busies himself in the medkit, but Jesse swears his cheeks are red.

Jesse smirks; he cannot let this opportunity go. 

“Yep, imagine me, shot in the lower abdomen, upper thigh, god forbid my groin itself.” He watches Hanzo keep his eyes down, squarely trained on the bandage he is unwrapping like it is the most interesting thing in the world. “Pants down, underwear possibly pushed up, down, taken off entirely. Woulda made things crazy awkward.”

Hanzo’s eyes flick to Jesse’s before he looks at the dressing again. Jesse pulls his hand away as Hanzo takes over, wrapping it around his chest. “You are making _this_ awkward by talking about _that_ hypothetical.”

“I usually require at least one dinner date before you can see the goods.”

“Please stop,” Hanzo groans, but Jesse can hear the amusement in Hanzo’s voice. He risks leaning forward to see the smile plastered on Hanzo’s face. 

Jesse licks his lips, decides to test his good luck and ask Hanzo what has been on his mind for the last few months now. “So whaddya say? You up for dinner when we’re back home?”

“We have dinner together all the time.”

“That’s my point,” Jesse replies. He looks at Hanzo, watching as he processes the statement, watching how the smile falls from his face, how his eyes narrow, before they widen, meeting Jesse’s.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh’.” Jesse’s smile softens, and he rests his head against the wall behind him. “I like you, Hanzo. Been meanin’ to ask you out for a while now, every time I tried, I chickened out. Today, gettin’ shot, made me realise that I’m done bein’ scared, hiding how I feel. I wanna take you out to dinner, proper dinner at a restaurant so I can tick that off the list. I wanna take you back to the base, I wanna physically  _ show  _ you how much you mean to me. And right now, I wanna kiss you.”

Hanzo’s eyes meet his, a smile teasing his lips. “This is hardly the place,” he breathes, tucking in the end of the bandage so it stays in place.

“Ain’t no time like the present.”

“You have been shot.” Hanzo might be fighting this, but he is leaning in slowly. 

“You’ve tended to the wound,” Jesse says, leaning in a little closer. “Just gotta wait for Angie to arrive.”

“Well, since you have no other injuries requiring attention,” Hanzo whispers, and Jesse can feel Hanzo’s breath against his lips. He breathes in Hanzo’s air as he exhales, feeling euphoric, and for a moment briefly entertains the idea that is probably the blood loss, but he pushes that aside, reaching for the back of Hanzo’s head with his left hand and meeting him in the kiss.

Jesse whimpers, half in pain from the angle, half for  _ finally _ having the balls to kiss Hanzo. He pushes his luck further, grazing his teeth against Hanzo’s bottom lip before sweeping his tongue against it, and Jesse all but moans when Hanzo opens his mouth, his tongue sweeps against Jesse’s. 

He wishes he could reach up with his flesh hand, tangle his fingers through Hanzo’s hair, feel the stubble against his cheek, but he knows if he moves his arm, he’ll just aggravate the wound and all of Hanzo’s hard work would have been for nothing. 

At least he’s got this proper kiss with Hanzo, feeling the soft slide of his tongue, a gentle caress—

“It seems like this situation is not as dire as I was led to believe.”

Jesse sighs as Hanzo pulls away, and his eyes settle on an irate looking Angie. “Sorry, just got caught in the moment.”

She looks at Hanzo, frowning. “Kissing your patient is not an approved recovery technique.”

“Don’t know ‘bout that, Angie,” Jesse says quickly before Hanzo can reply. He looks at Hanzo and waggles his eyebrows before looking back at her. “I reckon that kiss coulda healed the wound.”

“Was he going to suck the bullet through your mouth? Does his saliva have healing properties that I’m not aware of? Because I can just leave Hanzo here to it, then.”

“And you think my bedside manner is bad,” Hanzo murmurs before leaning back, allowing Angie a look. “My apologies, Dr. Ziegler. I tended to the wound as per your instructions, and once it was completed, Jesse asked me on a date. And if he could kiss me.” Hanzo looks at Jesse and smiles, cupping his face. Jesse leans into the touch. 

For the first time, Angie smiles. “I have to say, it’s about time someone made a move. It was a shame that it took one of you getting injured for it to happen, but at least it’s done.” She looks at Jesse. “Now, let me take a look at this wound…”

Jesse chuckles, opening his eyes and taking in the table he tossed off Hanzo in front of them, then Hanzo beside him. “Can’t believe we got busted.”

“Murphy’s Law.”

“It wasn’t the first kiss I’d had in mind,” Jesse murmurs, lips fluttering against Hanzo’s hairline, “but it was a damn good kiss.”

“I would not trade it for anything. Interruption and all.”

“God, I love you,” Jesse breathes.

Hanzo smiles, turning his head. “I love you too.”

Leaning down, Jesse presses his lips to Hanzo’s in a gentle kiss.

Tasting blood on Hanzo’s lips, smelling it so incredibly strong on Hanzo’s skin, dread pools in Jesse’s stomach, and the seriousness of the situation crashes into Jesse like a wave. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying in vain to kill the intrusive thought that floats in his mind.

_ This could be our last kiss _ . 


	2. When We Were Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 prompt: Young McHanzo

“I think it’s your turn for a story,” Jesse whispers as he pulls away.

Hanzo internally groans; that was not the best thing to have done. While Jesse initiated the kiss, Hanzo had to take it a step further, leaning into it which had him twisting at an odd angle, leaving his entire chest feeling like it is caught in a vice-grip. But despite his discomfort, he smiles through it; he does not want to worry Jesse more than he already has. 

“What do you want to hear?”

Jesse hums, resting his head against the wall. “I dunno, actually. When you’ve been together as long as we have, it gets hard, huh?”

Humming thoughtfully, Hanzo rests his head against Jesse’s shoulder. “We have eight years worth of memories. A lot of that was spent trading stories when we could not sleep.”

“Might have to go back earlier, I reckon.” Jesse turns his head, kissing Hanzo’s. “Tell me something from your childhood.”

Hanzo cannot help but grin. He remembers one story in particular that he has been meaning to talk to Jesse about, but never found the time nor the right opportunity. “I can tell you about the time we first met.”

“Not exactly a childhood memory, but I’ll take it.”

Lifting his head, Hanzo looks at Jesse and claims this personal victory. “You do not remember.”

Jesse looks at him, frowning. “Remember… what?”

“We met as children.”

“We did not,” Jesse scoffs.

“Yes.”

“I think I’d remember hanging around a Japanese…” Jesse’s eyes widen, and Hanzo grins. “No. That was you?!”

“It was.”

“Fuck,” Jesse breathes, kissing Hanzo’s forehead. “Then yeah, tell me!”

Hanzo sighs, remembering the drive through the desert being the worst of all.

His parents called it a holiday, but Hanzo knew better. Ten years old, he was getting good at reading between the lines of his father’s words and actions, picking up false truths, hidden agendas. His skills of deduction have not failed him yet.

So far they had done the touristy stuff that America had to offer: Disneyland in LA. Numerous water parks to combat the summer heat. The Grand Canyon, Mount Rushmore, then Disneyland in Florida. The Statue of Liberty, and now, Route 66.

Why Father is so insistent on driving this road is beyond him. It has been nothing but desert for the last two days, and will  _ be _ nothing but desert for the next day. Father explained that it was once decommissioned, that it has since reopened after the destruction caused by the omnics on the parallel highways and freeways, and that this was not an opportunity to be missed while they were here. He has seen it all, and he is utterly bored.

As far as Hanzo is aware, Father has no interest in American history. Which can only mean one thing: They are way out in the middle of nowhere because Father is doing business.

Not that Hanzo really knows why he would do business with people who live out  _ here _ . Hanzo rests his head on the window of the car, feeling the subtle vibration and the occasional small dip and bump as the hovercar rushes over potholes. There is nothing but cacti and sand. Literal  _ hours _ have passed since seeing the last person drive past them. 

“Are we there yet?” Genji groans from beside Hanzo. “This is so  _ boring _ !”

“Soon, Genji,” Father says from the driver's seat. He glances over his shoulder. “We will be stopping for ice cream soon enough.”

“Yes!” Genji grins, bouncing in his seat. “How long?”

“Ten minutes.”

Hanzo narrows his eyes, leaning over to look through the windshield and seeing nothing but desert in front of them. He is completely sceptical that there is a town here; no one would live in  _ this _ heat in the middle of nowhere.

But as they round a bend, clearing the canyon, Hanzo can in fact see buildings in the distance. The same red-brown colour of the desert, but there are definitely buildings. They pass a car—the first car in three hours and twenty minutes, Hanzo notes down in his journal—and when they pass the welcome sign, he scribbles that in, too: ‘Welcome to Santa Fe, New Mexico’.

As if he timed it down to the second, the car is parked on the street ten minutes from Father’s earlier announcement. Hanzo steps out of the car and scrunches his face. He does not understand how anyone can live in this dry heat, and all of a sudden he misses the wet humidity of home. 

They rush inside an ice-cream parlour, and Hanzo is thankful for the blast of cool air that hits him. At least these people have basic amenities. Once inside, though, Hanzo is a bit taken aback; he was expecting children, other families. Instead, he is greeted by a group of middle-aged men, dressed in black with vests, the patch on the left side reading ‘Deadlock Rebels’. He commits that to memory, along with the logo of a skull wearing an eyepatch, wings on either side, chains linking the words and a padlock too. He will have to sketch that into his journal when he is back in the car.

“Didn’t think you’d find us,” a man says as he steps out of a backroom. He looks from Father, to Mother, to Genji and finally Hanzo himself. “Nice family you got here.” He stands behind the counter, in front of the ice creams on display, and places a hand on another man’s shoulder. “Thomas here will get you some ice cream. On the house.” He looks at Father, gesturing to the backroom with the tilt of his head. 

“I shall not be too long,” he whispers, kissing Mother on the cheek, before leaving into the backroom with the man.

This was absolutely business, and Hanzo cannot help but grin; he was right again.

“So,” Thomas says with a smile. “Which flavour you want?”

Hanzo looks at the flavours through the display case, and most of them are flavours he has not heard of before.  _ Cotton Candy. Cookie Dough. S’mores. Moose Tracks— _ that one cannot be real.

“Rocky road is good.”

Hanzo turns, seeing a boy standing beside him. Same age, forehead pressed to the display case as he licks his lips. 

“It’s my favourite. It’s got peanuts and actual marshmallows in it that’s super chewy!”

“I’d listen to the kid,” Thomas says. “He’s got good taste in ice cream.”

“Eat it after school every day,” the kid says, turning to face Hanzo and giving him a toothy grin. “Trust me.”

Hanzo smiles, looking back at Thomas. “Rocky road, please.”

“Me too!” Genji says from beside Hanzo.

Thomas nods, grabbing two small glass bowls and placing two large, perfectly round scoops in. Chocolate sprinkles are added to the top, a spoon placed in and they are slid over the counter. 

“Same for you, Jess?”

“Yes please!” Jess says, jumping on the spot. 

Hanzo smiles, picking up his bowl and holding it while he waits for Jess to get his ice cream. 

Handed his ice cream, Jess picks up the bowl and holds it against his chest. “Want to see my dinosaurs?”

Hanzo nods eagerly. He loves dinosaurs!

“I’ll get them!” Jess places his bowl on the table, racing into the same backroom his father went in. 

Hanzo sits at the table, picks up the spoon and gives the ice cream a smell before licking it cautiously. He hums when he tastes the sweetness, shoving the entire spoon in his mouth. 

By the time Jess returns, t-shirt pulled up and acting like a scoop to carry his dinosaurs, Hanzo has eaten half of his ice cream. 

Jess looks at his bowl, smiling. “Good, yeah?”

“Very nice, thank you.”

Jess stands in front of the table, dropping the six dinosaur figurines. He takes a seat, shaking his head from side to side to get his hair out of his eyes before standing each one up and listing, “Tyrannosaurus Rex. Velociraptor. Triceratops. Stegosaurus. Brontosaurus. Pterodactyl.” He looks at Hanzo and smiles. “Which one’s your favourite.”

“Brontosaurus,” Hanzo says, picking it up. He looks at the toy, from its long neck to its tail. “It was wrongly classified, losing its name, only to be given its name back a hundred years later.”

“Yeah! I don’t know  _ how  _ they couldn’t tell it was different. Poor brontosaurus. I like the velociraptor best. It had feathers, they communicated to each other with barks and chirps and they hunted in packs.” Jess picks it up, looking at the open mouth. “Was a meat eater.” Jess sits up straight and clears his throat. “A carnivore.”

“Good job, Jess,” Thomas says from behind the counter. “Your mamá and papi will be proud of how much you’ve learned.”

“It’s paleontology week at school,” Jess says, placing the dinosaur down and picking up his bowl, heaping a massive scoop of ice cream in his mouth. “My favourite time of year. I wanna be a paleontologist when I grow up. Papi says that with the omnics knocking down some of the mountains, we could find new dinosaurs not seen before.” Another scoop of ice cream in his mouth, and he bounces in his seat, looking at his dinosaurs. 

Hanzo finishes the rest of his ice cream, taking modest bites. He looks at the dinosaurs, and a part of him is jealous that Jess gets to dig in the dirt and look for dinosaur bones. If he asked Father if he could do that, he would probably have a whole new book full of math problems handed to him because  _ clearly _ he is bored. 

“You don’t talk much, do you? Are you shy?”

Hanzo looks at Jess, smiling. 

“It’s okay, I can talk. What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I want to run a business like my father.”

Jess scrunches his face. “That’s boring! Surely that’s not what you  _ want  _ to do.”

Hanzo looks at his mother, arm draped over Genji’s shoulders and stroking his hair as he plays with his handheld. She has eyes on everyone else in the room, and is not paying attention to her or Jess. In any case, he looks back at Jess, leans in and says quietly, “I want to be an olympic archer.”

“That’s so cool!” Jess exclaims. “Do you have a bow?”

Hanzo looks at his mother again, this time she is looking at him, smile on her face. It seems she does not mind him talking about  _ this _ part of their lives. They were forbidden from talking about the clan, about the dragons to anyone outside the castle, because Father says it is a family secret, and no one will understand. “I do have a bow.”

“Aww, you’re so cool! I wish I had a bow. Papi says I can’t have a gun till I’m thirteen, even though I know how to properly shoot one without hurting anyone. I even wear the proper safety gear.” Jess huffs, then looks at Hanzo, smiling. “ How far can you shoot from?”

“I once landed a bullseye from sixty metres away—”

“That’s so far!”

“But I practice from thirty metres away.”

“You must be a pro. I go to the archery range sometimes, and those guys are so good! Like you have to take into account how the arrow falls over distance. Even though I aim higher than the target I still mostly miss it.”

“It takes a lot of practice.”

“Yeah,” Jess says, nodding. “I’d rather practice with my gun anyways.”

“...Looking forward to working with you,” Father says, walking through the backroom and into the shop, shaking hands with the man he left with.

“Papi! Papi!” Jess screams, leaping out of his chair and into the arms of the man. “The boy knows how to use a bow! Got a bullseye from sixty metres away!”

“That so?” Papi says, rubbing a hand through Jess’s hair. “Pretty impressive for a kid.”

“He has been training daily for almost five years now,” Father says, placing a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Top of his classes.”

“Very good,” Papi responds. “Speaking of, I think it’s time Jess did some homework.”

“Fine,” Jess says, rolling his eyes. “It was nice meeting you… um…”

“Hanzo.”

Jess smiles. “Nice to meet you, Hanzo. See you around!” 

Hanzo waves as Jess runs off into the backroom. They leave the parlour, and the second Hanzo is in the car, he grabs his journal out of his pocket and writes down everything he can about his time with Jess.

As the words written in that journal entry fade away into a hazy memory, the pain in Hanzo’s chest returns, and he settles on Jesse beside him. “I think I have that journal entry amongst my personal effects on base. I will have to see if I can find it.”

“I can’t believe we meet when we were young, and I can't fuckin’ believe I forgot your name,” Jesse says, kissing Hanzo’s head. “I remember goin’ upstairs to do my homework, then goin’ to school the next day ready to tell my friends about the cool kid I met… and couldn’t remember your name.”

“I find it more unlikely that we would meet again twenty eight years later.”

“Small world, huh.”

“I’m glad I found you.” Hanzo drops his head onto Jesse’s shoulder. “I have enjoyed this time with you.”

“And I’m plannin’ on spending even more time with you, once we get out of here.”

“Of course,” Hanzo says. He attempts to stretch his legs… but still cannot feel them. He thought himself stunned from the force of the explosion, considering he  _ could  _ move them right away, but since then the feeling has faded and now it is not there. He looks at his feet,  _ orders _ them to move and they do not. Hanzo swallows the lump in his throat, tasting blood, and makes a decision not to tell Jesse he cannot move his legs. Not yet, anyway. “Of course,” he repeats.

“Hey, I don’t remember the gang being affiliated with your clan. You know what happened?”

“Turns out the business deal never eventuated. There were plans for the clan to expand into the US, but shortly after that holiday, my grandfather, leader of the clan at the time, passed away, and my father took over, focusing on staying local to Japan instead. We instead got our guns from China.”

“Fair enough, I guess. But could you imagine us in a parallel universe? You leader of the clan, me leader of Deadlock, joining forces and creating a super gang.” Jesse chuckles. “Devastatin’ the world with our combined badassery.”

Hanzo only chuckles. He closes his eyes, he had not realised how tired he felt until this moment. He could just fall—

“Hanzo, sweetheart, you can’t fall asleep, remember.”

“Five minutes,” Hanzo mumbles.

“You can have five minutes when Angie gets here. Until then, you gotta stay awake. Okay?”

Hanzo sighs, then groans and opens his eyes. “Fine.” He sees Jesse with his comms, checking for reception again. “Still nothing?”

“Naw. It’ll be soon, though. I can feel it.”

Hanzo only nods.  _ I hope so _ , he thinks, looking at his feet again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really had a need to go _waaaaay_ back and write these dorks as kids.


	3. Pets of the Watchpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 prompt: Pets

Jesse swallows the lump in his throat, feeling Hanzo’s weight on him more and more. No longer supporting himself on the wall, Hanzo is leaning against him. Not that he doesn’t like it, if he could he would pull him into his lap, stroke his hair. Hell, he wishes he could drape an arm over his shoulder. But with the rebar where it is, the only thing he can do is sit next to him, hold his left hand and be the support he needs.

“How long have we been down here?” Hanzo asks, voice strained. Jesse probably shouldn’t have let him tell a story, in hindsight.

“‘Bout an hour,” he sighs.

“Seems longer.”

“Yeah. Good thing is, we’ve missed the mandatory check-in by thirty minutes, and no doubt the rest of the team woulda seen the explosion on surveillance, so they’ll be here soon and we can walk on outta here.”

Hanzo only hums, looks down at his feet again. _That_ has Jesse worrying something shocking. Once, an observation. Twice, a coincidence. Three times in twenty minutes? That’s intentional.

“Everythin’ okay?” Jesse asks, kissing Hanzo’s head.

“Yes,” Hanzo says, looking at Jesse. “Can I have more water?”

“Sure thing, sweetness.” Jesse adjusts to sit on his knees, picks up his canteen, opens the lid and cupping Hanzo’s head, gently tips the bottle so Hanzo can drink. When Hanzo closes his lips, Jesse pulls it away, fastening the cap and sitting next to him again, grabbing his hand between his.

“Thank you,” Hanzo rasps, resting his head on Jesse’s shoulder again.

There is a moment of silence, where Jesse focuses on Hanzo’s breathing again. It’s still shallow. Maybe even more so than before. Jesse loath that he’s having the thought, but he is a realist, and there is a very real possibility that he won’t be able to keep Hanzo from slipping away.

Jesse clears his throat when he feels a sob bubble up, quashing it back down. Hanzo will make it out of here. He will not die in this laboratory in the middle-of-nowhere Nevada. He needs something, a distraction, another story to distract Hanzo with. He thinks about the watchpoint, about everyone there, then thinks about their unofficial mascot, and smiles.

“I bet Hinode is itching to see you again,” Jesse says, resting his cheek on Hanzo’s head.

“She does get anxious when we are away.”

“Still can’t believe you found her.”

“Right place, right time,” Hanzo breathes.

“Y’know I had a fear of birds?”

Hanzo snorts, lifting his head. “Since when?”

“Since I was little. Would see bald eagles and vultures all the time. The vultures were the worst, though. When there was roadkill, there’d be at least three of ‘em fighting over the carcass. Sometimes when I’d be playin’ outside, they’d follow me, like they were waitin’ for me to keel over so they could peck at my remains.” Jesse shudders. “Fuckin’ birds.”

“That is the funniest thing I have ever heard,” Hanzo says, actually laughing.

Jesse smiles; this is good. “Why’s that so funny?”

“You can stare down the barrel of a gun without breaking a sweat. You risk your life on a daily basis. But a bird, which you can shoo away with the wave of your hand? Is that what it takes to bring down the big, tough, badass motherfucker that is Jesse McCree?”

Jesse scoffs, but grins wide. “You must be delirious if you’re using _those_ cuss words.” And how he wishes he can pick Hanzo up and kiss him like the world is ending, because hearing Hanzo cuss to _that_ degree is one of his favourite things. “You wanna know how terrified I was when you brought Hinode to my door?” Jesse can feel the frustration before the memory fully enters his mind. “I’ll tell you.”

It was one of _those_ nights.

Tossing and turning, every position Jesse tried lying in was more uncomfortable than the last. His body is tired. His mind is tired. But he can’t sleep. He’s mostly certain he hasn’t gotten a single wink since crashing on his bed at one a.m.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, sitting up. He eyes the bottle of whiskey—which could be considered rubbing alcohol given not only how cheap it was, but also how it lacked any depth of flavour—and gives in, picking it up and taking a swig. He hisses after he swallows, the burn in his throat from _this_ brand always gets him.

Bottle still in hand, he enters his bathroom, placing it down on the sink. “Athena, time,” he says as he slides off his underwear, kicking them to the corner of the room.

“Oh-five-twenty-four hours.”

Jesse groans, taking another swig of the alcohol.

“Might I suggest stopping by the mess hall for a warm cup of milk? I hear that is what most people suffering insomnia drink.”

“I ain’t a damn child,” Jesse says, turning on the shower. He tests the water, waiting for it to reach a temperature that resembles scalding before stepping in, groaning when the hot water hits his skin.

“Then I advise against taking any medication if you intend to keep drinking.”

“I know,” Jesse sighs, glancing at the bottle on the sink before eyeing the bottle of pills next to it. He turns his back on the both of them, bracing himself with his forearms against the wall of the shower and resting his head on his closed fists. “Just gonna take a shower, go for a run, get real exhausted so I can crash out sometime in the afternoon.” He smiles. “Maybe I’ll run into Hanzo while I’m out there. I hear he’s an early riser.”

“Your chances of running into Hanzo are high this morning, he is up and outside at the moment.”

Jesse smiles, standing up straight. “Good,” he breathes, tilting his head back and wetting his hair under the stream. He doesn’t spend too long in the shower after that, just rinses more than anything, considering he’ll need another shower after his run. But a part of him is excited to see Hanzo. He’s developed a little crush, and it seems to be mutual, with Hanzo flirting back these days.

He quickly towels himself dry, tying his hair back into a ponytail before getting dressed in a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt. When he is tying on his sneakers, he hears a frantic knock at the door.

“Jesse!” Hanzo exclaims. “Are you awake?” His voice is panicked, and fear pools in Jesse’s stomach, expecting news that one of the team is in trouble.

One shoe on, the other in his hand, Jesse drops it to the floor and opens his door. He settles on a wild-eyed Hanzo. “Han, what’s got you—” then he notices the feathered beast in his hands. “What the fuck is that?!” he exclaims, leaping back and almost tripping on his dropped shoe.

“I found her on the roof when I was meditating.”

“That don’t answer my question! Is it alive?”

Hanzo looks at Jesse puzzled, then to the _thing_ in his hands. “She is breathing, yes. But I need your help.”

“With what?!”

“To help her. I am no expert but I think she has a broken wing, and Dr. Ziegler is currently off base.”

Jesse presses a hand to his forehead, looking at the bird. _I can do this_ , he tells himself, taking a step forward. Big orange eyes meet his, it has somewhat adorable ear tufts and it—she—does have a gorgeous mottled pattern. She doesn’t look dangerous right now, she looks stunned more than anything and is probably not in a situation where she can attack, and that sets Jesse’s mind at ease mildly. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen an owl this large,” he breathes, taking a step forward. “Think she was attacked? Don’t they usually sit near the top of the predatory food chain?”

“Normally, yes, but when there are larger birds of prey out there, it is not entirely a surprise.”

Jesse fights the urge to yelp and leap backwards again when the owl flaps its good wing. He then notices the other wing, sitting at an awkward angle against Hanzo’s chest. Still, he picks up his shoe and sits on the bed to give him and the bird some much-needed distance, andand watc as Hanzo tries his best to calm her. It seems he hasn’t caught onto Jesse’s fear, and he damn well intends to keep it that way.

“Okay,” Jesse breathes when the owl settles down, tying his shoe and standing up. “Without Angie, I reckon we could find Morrison. He loves birds, he’ll know what to do. Athena, where’s Jack?”

“He is in the mess hall.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” Jesse breathes, looking at Hanzo and extending his arm. “Lead the way.”

Stalking the corridors of the watchpoint at five-thirty in the morning with Hanzo as he cradles an owl to his chest, approaching the mess hall to ask the base’s resident ‘grump’—as he is affectionately known by the younger members of the team—about his bird expertise is probably the strangest thing Jesse has done within these walls, and Jesse used to get up to some weird shit in Blackwatch.

Jesse is thankful that Morrison ain’t asleep. As much as the man loves his birds, goes all gaga when he spots one bird watching, he knows that waking him up with an injured one on his doorstep would push him into a foul mood, worse than the one he carries with him daily.

When Jesse enters the dimmed mess hall, he sees Jack sitting on a table in the corner, drinking a protein shake and reading something on his tablet. He looks up, sees Jesse first and nods his head in greeting.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Not really. Ain’t why we’re here though,” he says, standing aside so Hanzo can show him the bird.

“An eagle-owl,” he breathes, eyes practically lighting up at the sight of it.

Of course the thing is an eagle-owl. Couldn’t just be a regular ol’ owl, could it? It had to be some freakish eagle-owl hybrid.

“What happened?”

“I found her while meditating,” Hanzo starts, approaching Morrison, “and I think she might have a broken wing.”

Morrison holds out his hands, and Hanzo passes the bird over. He gently lays it on the table, and for the first time in _ever_ , Morrison smiles, gently patting the bird’s chest. “How’re you doing, beautiful?”

The bird just looks up at him, fluffing her feathers and puttin’ a damn good show.

Jesse rolls his eyes.

“I’m just gonna have a feel around, see what’s up,” he coos, sliding his hand to her wing. She flinches, but otherwise doesn’t react to his manipulations. “Good news is, the wing’s not broken. Nothing’s out of place. It could be sprained. She seems stunned, though, because she’s not reacting to me like I’d expect.” He sighs, rubbing his chin in thought. “Best thing to do is to put her back where you found her. Keep an eye on her, see if she flies off. If not, we’re gonna have to call a wildlife centre.”

Hanzo nods, picking up the bird and cradling it close to his chest. “I can wait with her. Jesse, I am sorry for waking you with this. If I had known that Jack was the bird expert, I would not have bothered you.”

“Didn’ wake me. Was about to go for a run. But ah…” he looks at the bird, can’t _believe_ he’s thinking this, but no way is he going to let a damn bird get in the way of his plans to spend the morning with Hanzo. “I’ll wait with you. Keep you company at the very least.” Jesse smiles when Hanzo smiles, and swears he notices his cheeks flush pink, but he turns away before Jesse can be certain.

“Thank you,” Hanzo says to Morrison.

“Let me know what happens,” he grumbles, turning his attention back to the tablet.

The room brightens, and Jesse watches the particulate matter floating in the air through the light coming through the cracks in the ceiling. “Can’t believe that was six years ago,” he breathes, looking at Hanzo.

“I can’t believe I did not pick up on your phobia. You hid it well.”

“Didn’ want the rest of the team pickin’ up on it. Don’t need their cruel jokes.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Good,” Jesse breathes, kissing Hanzo’s head. “I’m actually surprised no one picked up on it when Torb brought Bastion back with that damned bird.”

Hanzo scoffs. “Ganymede is harmless.”

“Why’d it have to be a bird? Coulda handled anything else. Snake. Spider. Hell, even a scorpion. But nup, had to be a bird.”

“You are an enigma,” Hanzo grins.

“I know how to handle those critters. You don’t live in Santa Fe for seventeen years without learnin’ how to handle the creepy-crawlies.”

“But an innocent cardinal and you are running for the hills?”

“And the thing of _course_ loves me,” Jesse grumbles. He shudders again, he will never get over the time Gany flew to his shoulder and refused to leave him alone. He might have yelped, and he is completely thankful that the only other occupant in the room was Bastion. But whenever Jesse tried to shoo him away, Gany would keep on comin’ back and there was nothing he could do than sit there, face to face with the bird and hope it didn’t peck his eyes out.

“You are much better now.”

“I’ve adjusted,” Jesse says slowly. He looks at Hanzo, pushes _that_ nightmare aside. “Been around ‘em long enough to get over it. Mostly. I’ll never let Hinode near me, though. Her talons can rip through skin. I’m surprised you let her perch on your shoulder.”

Hanzo shrugs. “She is gentle.”

“Gentle?” Jesse scoffs. “What did Morrison say? ‘Keep her away from Ganymede, she eats birds like that for breakfast’?’” Jesse can’t help but laugh. It was by Jesse’s suggestion that the two birds could live together when Hanzo revealed the owl returned the day after she recovered. “Fuck, why’d all of the pets of the watchpoint have to be birds?” Jesse sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. He can feel dirt and dried blood crusting over, and winces. “Hinode will miss you if you never come back.”

“I am sure Morrison will continue to keep her company.”

“She’s your bird, though.”

“And I will not be at the watchpoint forever.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Jesse says quickly, feeling anxiety strike his chest. “We’re gonna get you home.”

“That is not what I meant,” Hanzo says slowly. Jesse looks at him, and he adds, “I heard what you said, about retiring.” He nods, licks his lips. “I think I am ready to retire too.”

Jesse can’t help but grin. “I fuckin’ love you,” he says, cupping Hanzo’s face and kissing him softly.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hinode is Japanese for sunrise.


	4. Hiding in Plain Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 prompt: Hidden Identities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I… might have just finished binge-watching The Office, and apparently drew a lot of inspiration from it? Whoops!!
> 
> Also, this is the chapter with mild sexual content, for folks not into that sort of thing.

“Retirement, huh?” Jesse sits back against the wall, taking Hanzo’s left hand in his. “Never in a million years woulda figured the two of us would retire.”

“There was a time not too long ago where I would have welcomed death before settling down.”

“And now?” Jesse asks, turning to Hanzo. He waggles his eyebrows, and Hanzo chuckles.

“You, you silly man,” he says, resting his head on Jesse’s shoulder. He turns his hand so he can weave his fingers between Jesse’s. “You have made me sentimental.” He rubs his thumb along Jesse’s ring, and plays with his matching one on his right hand. 

“I tamed the dragon.” Jesse kisses the top of his head. “Got any thoughts on what you wanna do with our time after Overwatch? It don’t exactly pay well, so we’re probably gonna have to work.”

“Work,” Hanzo repeats; dread pools in his stomach. “As long as it is not in an office building, I do not care.”

“You really hated that mission, didn’t you?”

“How people can tolerate a nine-to-five workday, stuck in traffic, stuck in a room with no fresh air or physical activity…” Hanzo shrugs with his left shoulder. “Maybe it is just me. Maybe I am the one who does not understand the appeal.”

“Ain’t just you,” Jesse says, kissing Hanzo’s head. “Don’t know how people can do it, either.”

“And we only did it for a month.”

“It was a shitty mission, but we made it interesting,” Jesse coos, sliding his nose down Hanzo’s jaw.

Hanzo chuckles, remembering what Jesse is specifically talking about, but when he closes his eyes, he remembers the crushing defeat of seeing his desk for the first time. 

He sighs, sitting at the shared desk of the office space; his home for the next month. The company imports laboratory equipment, and rumours are swirling they are importing something  _ bigger _ , something which Talon have their eyes on. 

Of course, the order is not for ‘Talon’, that would be too easy. No, this is several shipments, with varying delivery dates, with different names and addresses on each order. Hanzo gives them credit—they are at least smart.

This mission is multi-faceted, requiring a large portion of the Overwatch crew, working both on- and off-site. Full immersion into the cover is required as well as absolute discretion when dealing with the warehouse and office staff, because it is believed that one of them is working for Talon.

The only person who knows Overwatch will be inhabiting their office is the manager, who approached  _ them _ about suspicious orders coming through. 

There was a mock hiring blitz. Three people added to sales. One to accounting. Two in the warehouse. Six agents, posing as office workers until the details of the shipments are revealed. The six of them live in separate parts of the town, hiding in plain sight. For a month, Hanzo is one Uchida Kiyoshi, Kiyo for short, who is single and works out in his spare time. He has no pets and is allergic to dogs, which bothers Hanzo more than it should, considering he is a dog person.

But the most infuriating part of this mission is the fact that he and Jesse have to live separate lives for the month. They have been together for three years now, share quarters, share a bed—share a  _ life _ —and now Hanzo has to live and sleep alone for the sake of this mission? Preposterous.

Hanzo looks around at the faces of his new colleagues. How they can work in an open-plan space and not get distracted by each other is a miracle. Already, at nine-fifteen, a group of them are in the kitchen talking about what they did on the weekend. They will likely be in there for another fifteen minutes, start work closer to ten a.m. and want to leave at five on the dot. 

Ludicrous. This entire mission is just ludicrous.

Taking a breath, his eyes first settle on Lena, sitting in the accounting department. She is already having a rather animated discussion with the other two people. At least she is fitting in well. He then bounces to Hana and Lúcio who are conveniently sitting across from each other, both of whom already look like they are in work mode. At least  _ they  _ are working. Jesse and Brigitte round out the team, the both of them working in the warehouse. 

Another unfortunate part of this mission is the requirement to do  _ actual _ work for this company—make sales calls, attend meetings, do  _ actual _ business while trying to figure out who the plant is, and which shipments specifically are for Talon.

Hanzo seethes. Absent Jesse by his side, this is going to be a long month.

Though it only takes three days for Hanzo to cave, and a week to realise things are getting out of hand.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Jesse says, voice muffled against Hanzo’s neck as he works on getting Hanzo’s belt undone. “Rumour mill in the office is gonna go off if we get caught.”

“Then we will not get caught,” Hanzo says, voice breathy as Jesse slips his hand inside his underwear. His back arches, he bites his lip in an attempt to not moan. He hooks his arm around Jesse’s neck, pulling him down and kissing him hard. 

Sneaking away to be with Jesse has been the only reprieve he has found. He has a monthly gym membership, but working out in the evenings is not scratching that itch. He tried going for runs on his lunch breaks too, but with the weather worsening on their approach to winter, sleet showers the last two days with potential snowfall in the coming days, it rules that out. 

The people in the office are insufferable. The work, more so. So Hanzo’s only real stress relief are these moments he spends with Jesse, because he also found that video calling him was not enough.

Seeing Jesse is not cutting it. Hanzo needs to  _ feel _ him.

Jesse, on the other hand, loves working in the warehouse. The people there are not as uptight, not as judgemental and not as gossipy, even going as far as providing a secret space—for naps, apparently, though it has been suggested it has been used for more sordid reasons in the past—with no judgement of the time spent there and who with. As long as everything stays clean, anything goes, apparently.

Pressure building and almost at critical mass, Hanzo bites his lip and squeezes his eyes tight, holding onto Jesse for dear life.

“I got you,” Jesse murmurs, lips ghosting the shell of Hanzo’s ear as Hanzo digs his fingernails into the back of Jesse’s neck. “I got you.”

Hanzo’s knees weaken, he buries his head in the crook of Jesse’s neck, breathing in his smell as he reaches his peak. Hours of stress and tension are released, let go in a woosh like the breath he did not realise he was holding. 

Taking one final, steadying breath, Hanzo opens his eyes and tips his head back, looking at Jesse through heavy-lidded eyes. Jesse meets him in a slow kiss, and when it recedes, Hanzo reaches for the button on Jesse’s pants, but Jesse shifts back. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. Wanna have my way with you tonight.”

“You got approval to spend the night,” Hanzo whispers, excitement coursing through him. 

“Better.” Jesse smiles, waggles his eyebrows and the silence only stretches to the point of painful. 

“Jesse, you better tell me—”

“I'm movin’ in.”

“Jesse,” Hanzo says, voice barely a whisper as he holds Jesse tight. 

“Apparently you've been a bit bossy upstairs. Not my words,” he adds quickly, before Hanzo can really take in what Jesse said. “Wasn't my idea, either.”

Hanzo’s eyes slide closed. “Hana.”

“Brigitte called me 'a lost, wandering soul’ without you. They talked to Winston on our behalf, I had a chat with the big guy and got approval earlier. I knew you'd want your daily booty call, so I waited t'surprise you.”

Hanzo pulls away, looking at Jesse with a raised eyebrow. “I do not make booty calls.”

“Yup,” Jesse grins. “Hide it behind ‘stress relief’ all you want,” he air quotes, “it's a booty call.”

Well… Hanzo cannot really argue with that. He calls Jesse at some point in the afternoon, and within five minutes Jesse is in his arms. Smiling softly, he zips up. “Thank you,” he whispers, standing on his toes and cupping Jesse’s face, kissing him.

“The day I turn down bein’ there for you is the day hell’s frozen over. Y’don’t need to thank me, Han, not now, not ever.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetness. Now scram, I believe you’re meeting with a client in about…” Jesse checks his watch, raising an eyebrow. “Ten minutes.”

Hanzo reluctantly pulls away from Jesse. “Tonight cannot get here fast enough,” he groans, doing up his belt.

The rest of that day flies by. The next week does too, much to Hanzo’s surprise; having Jesse by his side again has helped immensely. Between the six of them, they manage to work out which clients are Talon. They thought they had not roused the suspicion of the plant, but before Overwatch could do anything about him, he stopped showing up at work. Just disappeared without a trace, the only evidence was an immediate resignation emailed to the manager the night prior. 

Once the items were in Overwatch's possession, Hanzo quit the job, a full three days from the expected end of the mission. He left the office with the biggest smile on his face, gave everyone a mental middle finger as he said his goodbyes and never looked back.

Jesse resigned minutes after that, and they left the building walking hand-in-hand.

Hanzo tries to remember what happened with the items once they were shipped to Gibraltar. He cannot recall if they are still in storage, if Winston figured out what they needed the equipment for, or if even it ties in with this mission. His memory is just so fuzzy now, like every part of his mind is focused on mitigating the pain in his chest.

“As I have proven,” Hanzo says eventually, sighing, “I am not fit for office work.”

“Y’are, so long as you get your daily stress relief.”

Hanzo huffs a laugh, resting his head on Jesse's shoulder. “I would much rather forego the stress relief and do something joyful with my life, so I do not have to use sex  _ as  _ stress relief.”

“And what brings you joy, Mr. Shimada? What do  _ you _ wanna do with your life?”

“Bounty hunting was always quite lucrative. We could do a handful of bounties, then settle down.”

“Be a pair of outlaws,” Jesse drawls. “I reckon so.”

“We would be on the move, on the road a lot. We would not be settling down, not yet, anyway.”

“I can wait,” Jesse says, taking Hanzo’s hand between both of his. “As long as I’m by your side, I don’t really give a damn what we do.”

Hanzo looks at Jesse and chuckles, and for a moment feels lightheaded. Nausea roils his gut, and it takes all his willpower to take a few slow, deep breaths in an effort to ease it, at least enough that he feels confident enough to open his eyes again. 

“What’s happening, Han?”

“Nothing,” Hanzo lies. He looks at his feet, orders them to move, and again they do not. He can feel a slight tingling in his fingertips, and when he tries to move the fingers on his right hand, his movements feel sluggish and heavy, like he is dragging his fingers through thick mud.

He cannot worry Jesse. He cannot put Jesse through the misery of watching him die in agony, because he knows that Jesse will blame himself, and in this situation, no one is to blame. So until he is convinced he is at his end, he will pretend that everything is okay. As best as he can with a steel bar sticking out of his chest, at least. 

“I am fine,” he says, resting his head on Jesse’s shoulder once more. “We will get out of here, reminisce about the time we survived an explosion and life will go on.”

“Gonna count our lucky stars when we’re back within the walls of the watchpoint.” Jesse rests his head on top of Hanzo’s. “And I’m gonna count how many lives we got left.”

Hanzo nods, and swallows down another wave of nausea. He has had so many close encounters in the past, and  _ if  _ he survives this, he fears he would have expended all of his spare lives. 

No one is this lucky.


	5. Contrasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 prompt: Opposites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a liiiitle heads up, we switch gears in this chapter.

Another lull in the conversation, and again, Jesse times his breathing to Hanzo’s. He only lasts three seconds before he’s taking deep, controlled breaths because he wasn’t getting enough oxygen; a stark contrast to Hanzo’s quick, shallow ones. 

Squeezing Hanzo’s hand just that little bit tighter, he knows he should start thinking worst case scenario. He knows he should start coming to terms with the fact that Hanzo might not make it out of here. He knows at the very least he should make some sort of mental preparation that Hanzo will be carried out of here, not walked out.

But how does someone prepare for the death of the love of their life? While they have been down here for just over an hour, it’s still sudden.

Jesse woke up this morning cuddling Hanzo.

He made breakfast for Hanzo.

They discussed the stupidest things, made plans for the weekend and put in an application for a small leave of absence so they can holiday in the Mediterranean at the tail end of summer.

They discussed the movie they were going to watch when they got back to the watchpoint on the shuttle over. This mission was supposed to be another unremarkable mission in a long line of unremarkable missions. Hanzo wasn’t supposed to get hurt. 

Hanzo isn’t supposed to die.

Jesse squeezes his eyes shut tight, bites his tongue to keep himself grounded. He shouldn’t focus on what  _ might _ happen, he should focus on the fact that Hanzo is here, now, very much clinging to life... and that he is very much shaking like a leaf.

“Hanzo,” Jesse murmurs, opening his eyes. Mouth thick with saliva, he swallows, and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re shivering.”

“I am cold,” he intones, and his teeth start chattering.

Jesse frowns, presses the back of his hand to Hanzo’s forehead. “You're ice cold.”

“Your hand feels like a furnace.”

Pulling away from Hanzo, Jesse tugs at the serape around his shoulders, draping it around Hanzo’s, covering his chest and back, making sure not to touch the rebar. Hanzo pulls it up to his chin, and dread pools in Jesse’s stomach, seeing how his lips contrast blue to the red of the serape.

This is bad. If Hanzo's cold, then he's bleeding internally. “We should probably elevate your legs,” Jesse says quietly, unsure if this is even the right course of action. 

“I do not have the strength to lift them,” Hanzo says, staring intently at his legs. 

“It's all right, I've got you.” Jesse looks around for something he can prop under Hanzo's feet, ultimately settling on his backpack and quiver. He lifts Hanzo's feet, one at a time, watching his face for any pain it discomfort, but other than a frown, he doesn't react. “It's not much, but it's something.”

“It will do.”

Jesse nods, sitting next to Hanzo again. A part of him is thankful that he got rid of the serape. He’s thinking of losing the chest armour and taking off his shirt too, considering how hot it is. 

“I know this is bad,” Hanzo says quietly.

“Ain’t bad, not yet.”

“We are in the middle of the American desert in summer. How hot is it out there? Forty-five degrees?”

“One-ten, one-fifteen? Yeah, probably.”

“And it is easily forty degrees in here, now? With the sun practically beating down on us.”

Jesse takes a breath, looking at the filtered light pouring through the cracks in the ceiling. “Yeah,” he sighs.

“And I know how cold it will get when night falls.”

“Won’t be freezing, not in the middle of summer. You’ll be fine.”

Hanzo looks at Jesse. “I cannot keep warm in here now. How will I fare at night?”

“I guess…” Jesse says, biting his lip. Picking up his comm, he checks it for what has to be the hundredth time, and still nothing. He has to hold onto the fact that Hanzo will make it out of here alive. Hanzo  _ has _ to make it out of here alive. There’s no way Jesse could let him die down here.

And with that, he has a horrid intrusive thought:  _ At least he won’t die alone. _

Shaking his head, he kisses Hanzo’s, pushing that thought right down into a locked box in his mind where he hopes he’ll never have to hear it again. 

“It’s all right, we’ll get you out of here before the sun sets.”

Hanzo nods, resting his head against Jesse’s shoulder. There is another moment of silence, a pause where Jesse has run out of stories to share. He knows he needs to keep talking, though, he needs to interact with Hanzo otherwise Hanzo could slip away without him noticing. 

“You wanna play a game?” Jesse asks, for lack of a better idea.

“I fear I cannot move. Not with this bar sticking out of my chest.”

“A  _ word  _ game,” Jesse corrects.

“You assume that just because I am injured that I would not still beat you?” Hanzo looks at Jesse and smirks, and Jesse can see just how bloodshot his eyes look all of a sudden. “Go on, do your worst.”

“Always the competitor,” Jesse breathes, kissing Hanzo’s head. “I was thinkin’ something a little low key, favourite colour and such.”

“That one is easy.” Hanzo lifts up Jesse’s hand, using his index finger to push up his ring finger. He looks at it, twists it slightly in the low light until the ruby sparkles. “Yours is red.” He then tries to lift his right hand, getting it high enough to rest in his lap, even though he groans. “And mine blue.” He lifts it ever so slightly off his lap, moving his hand so the sapphire glints in the light. Dropping his hand back into his lap, Hanzo turns his head to face Jesse, mischievous grin on his face. “So ask me something you do not already know.”

“A’ight, a’ight, cool it on the sass,” Jesse says, reaching for Hanzo’s right hand and playing with the ring on his finger. “Also happen to know that you love black when accompanying sapphire blue.” 

“I have noticed a few black and blue items that belong to you which live in our closet.”

“You mean my nice black chaps and matchin’ hat I keep for special occasions?”

“Not special enough that I have seen you in them.”

“Tell you what, sweetness, when we get outta here, I’ll wear my nice chaps every damn day. Morning, noon and night. They go real nice with my good pair of jeans and my blue plaid shirt. Go all black an’ blue for ya.” 

“I wish to see you in the chaps absent your jeans, too,” Hanzo says slyly, smirking.

“Kinky,” Jesse whispers, leaning in to kiss Hanzo. “Consider it done.”

“Are you going to list the things you know about me, or are we going to play the game?” Hanzo asks, and when Jesse pulls away, he can see a glint in his eyes, a passion that he is actually enjoying this and that has to be a very fucking good thing ‘cause it’ll be getting his mind off his current predicament. 

It’s getting Jesse’s mind off it too, and even though Hanzo’s being his usual competitive dicky self, he’s not gonna complain.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Jesse teases, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. 

“I do not wear ‘panties’.”

“Favourite season?” Jesse asks, knowing full well that if he indulged Hanzo here and now with the panty comment, they’d end up on a downward spiral with Jesse digging himself further into a hole and Hanzo making jabs and comments about it like the competitive fucker he is.

He gives Hanzo an affectionate smile in any case, because there is no way he can be frustrated at his man. Not now, not ever.

“Spring,” Hanzo answers with a smile. “Though winter is a very close second.”

“I like summer myself. Hate it when it gets too cold.”

“You never did like the snow.”

“Nup. Hate the stuff.” He looks up at the sliver of blue sky he can see. “Fuckin’ Mother Nature and her need to rain ice crystals on all of us. It’s already damn cold without the snow! Not only that, it’s a pain in the ass to clean  _ and _ clear away, and it gets everything wet.”

“It is magical back home,” Hanzo says, almost nostalgic as he rests his head on the wall. “It can turn everything white; the trees, the ground, and the orange from the  _ torii _ gates and shrines contrast against it. Like fire.”

“Gotta admit, that sounds amazing,” 

“I should take you back home over winter.” Hanzo looks at Jesse, another mischievous grin on his face. “If you will not complain endlessly about being stuck in the snow.”

“You’re on. I’d love to see your home in winter, actually.”

Hanzo smiles, looks back at the ceiling. He licks his lips. “Favourite meal?”

“Now that’s a good question,” Jesse says, rubbing his chin. “There’s…” he chuckles, as about one hundred different dishes flash in his mind. “Just one?”

“Absolute favourite meal.”

“Like, ‘stuck on a desert island and can only eat one thing’ meal?”

“If you had the opportunity to choose, what would be your last meal?”

Jesse can mentally hear the screeching of brakes, the sound of the needle slipping on a turntable like in those old movies he used to watch as a kid, as the gravity of  _ those _ words fall on him.

Hanzo thinks he’s going to die. 

Jesse studies Hanzo’s face, but there is no sadness in his eyes, no grimace tugging down his lips. Instead, it’s another one of those wistful smiles, his eyes slightly unfocused like he is remembering something that brings him joy.

Pushing his own grief back down into the pit of his stomach, Jesse smiles and takes Hanzo’s hand between both of his, squeezing tight. “A’ight,” he breathes, taking a moment to think of that one dish. “It’s cliché as all fuck, but I’d want taquitos. My mamá used to make them with a family secret ingredient, never had ‘em anywhere else quite like how she used to make them.”

“You have never made them before,” Hanzo murmurs. 

“Never did find out what that ingredient was,” Jesse breathes. It’s a spice, he’s sure. Something which wouldn’t normally go with Mexican food, but short of troubleshooting with every spice he can get his hands on, he’s not game enough to try. “And it’s been years since I’ve had them, I barely remember the recipe.”

“That is a shame.” Hanzo looks down at their joined hands. “I would have liked to try them.”

Jesse’s heart just about breaks with those words. He knows he should talk about this, about Hanzo’s sudden change in attitude, but that makes it real and he wants to live in this bubble where he’s fine, where they’re just playing a game out of boredom, not to stave off unconsciousness and death. He can’t do this. He’s not ready to say goodbye to Hanzo. He’s not ready.

He’s not ready.

“Tell you what,” Jesse says, voice breaking. He chuckles, and this time nothing can stop the tears spilling down his cheeks. “ _ When _ we get out of here, I’ll see if I can dig up the recipe. I’ll whip up a batch, see if I can revive that old Hernandez recipe.”

Hanzo looks at him, his eyes soften and he nods. “I would like that,” he whispers. Then he looks away, glances at his feet before looking down at the rebar in his chest, before closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. The sun is now filtering through at an angle where it illuminates his face, and Jesse didn’t notice before, but now he realises just how pale Hanzo is. He doesn’t have long.

Swallowing down the nausea, Jesse wipes his face with his hand and clears his throat. “What about you? What would you want?”

“Ramen,” Hanzo breathes, turning his head to look at Jesse. “Rikimaru Ramen. I guess you could call it just as cliché, but they made the best ramen.” He huffs a laugh. “Genji’s is a close second, and fills the void, but Rikimaru makes the best _Chashu Tamago_ I have ever had.”

“Pork and egg?”

Hanzo nods. “Barbecued pork. It always came with extra pork slices.”

“Now that sounds delicious.”

“We should have gone back there when we had the chance,” Hanzo says quietly, so quiet that Jesse almost missed it. Jesse is about to retort with some ‘this ain’t over’ shit, but Hanzo huffs another laugh, looks at Jesse, and his eyes sparkle in the low light. “We shall go there when I am out of here.”

“Damn straight we will,” Jesse says, pressing his lips to Hanzo’s forehead. “Gonna make you taquitos and we’re gonna eat some ramen.” 

He checks his comm again, and when it just shows Athena’s spinning logo with that damned ‘x’ in the corner indicating they are still out of comm range of anyone, he has the thought to throw it against the wall for all of the fuckin’ use it’s been.

But be bottles his anger, ‘cause now, more than ever, he needs to be strong for Hanzo.

He can’t show Hanzo that he is terrified of losing him.  


	6. Our Slice of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 prompt: Domestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those that know me know I don’t do heavy angst, and I have to be completely honest with you. When I read this chapter a couple days after I wrote it to edit it, it fucked me up something shocking. I was practically in tears, cursing my past self for writing something so heavy. I apologise. 
> 
> But do bear in mind that this fic does have a happy ending.
> 
> And yeah, I know this is supposed to be the fluffy domestic chapter but my fingers slipped!

A slow, painful death was not something Hanzo ever thought he would have the pleasure of experiencing. 

He was trained in assassination. Taught to dispatch enemies quickly, get in and get out without being seen. 

And it is a foolish thing to think that when the time came, he would be awarded a death as swift as he delivered.

He cannot help but smile as he quotes Jesse in his mind:  _ This fuckin’ sucks _ .

But there was a reason why he thought about Rikimaru Ramen. Why he picked spring and winter for his favourite seasons. He wants to go home. 

Home to Hanamura, where the streets are lined with cherry blossoms in spring. Where the snow in winter blankets everything, providing a breathtaking backdrop for the temples. Where he can go back and eat at Rikimaru Ramen every Friday night like he used to. 

And with every shallow breath he takes, every slow blink, every agonising second that passes, he can feel that want slipping through his fingers. 

He should have had the guts to talk to Jesse about his plans for retirement. They were always on his mind, always sitting at the back of his brain from the moment Jesse was in his arms. But no, he had to be competitive, tell Jesse that he had no plans to retire, that he would get bored of doing the same mundane things over and over, day after day.

Now… Now that is all he wants. 

He guesses this is what he deserves, a recompense for every bad thing he has done. All of the murders. Assassinations. Bounty hunts. Genji. This slow death is his just deserts. Why would someone with a past, a history as tarnished as his, be deserving of a swift death? He deserves to suffer. 

It is not his death that is bothering him, ultimately. Yes, it is painful, but it is more painful watching Jesse watch him die. A part of him wishes the rebar struck his right side, killed him instantly, just so he would not have to watch Jesse’s heart slowly break. 

And a part of him is glad. Oh, so glad that at the very least he has been given these precious, final moments with Jesse. 

Because for all the bad Hanzo has done in his life, he is glad that he will not die alone. 

“What are your thoughts of retiring in Hanamura?” Hanzo asks, though not really certain if he said the words or thought them.

“Honey, I’d retire on the fuckin’ moon if that’s what you wanted.”

Hanzo tries to laugh, but instead coughs. The pain in his chest reaches new levels of intensity he had thought impossible, and when the fit is done, he is absolutely astounded he is still breathing. 

The blood all over Jesse’s serape is a worry, though.

Before Hanzo can blink, Jesse’s wiping his mouth with a clean corner of the serape, his touch gentle. Then the water bottle is held up, and Hanzo nods, opening his mouth and taking a small cautious gulp, washing the blood down. 

“Thank you,” Hanzo croaks, resting his head against the wall. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, to picture in his mind what he spent so long burying. “There is a plot of land, right on the outskirts of Hanamura. Large, nothing but a patch of land for the moment, but I bought it years ago. I would like to settle there.”

“Ain’t nothing I want more,” Jesse murmurs. “As long as it’s with you.”

“It is large enough for a house, two or three bedrooms, living area, kitchen. The same amount of space for a garden. A vegetable patch. Chickens.” Hanzo smiles. “A dog or three.”

“That sounds perfect, Han. It'll be our slice of life.”

“A big bed. Not that I wish to be away from you, but space for… activities which are difficult on the watchpoint beds… that would be nice.” Hanzo looks at Jesse and smiles. “A room where we can mount Peacekeeper and Storm Bow, a reminder of our pasts, while still being present in our lives.”

Jesse nods, his eyes full of tears again, and Hanzo has to look away.

“The kitchen, as far away as possible from the main bedroom so I can make you breakfast without waking you. And a terrace we can sit on, eat a meal when the weather is nice.” Hanzo feels a tickle in his throat, and he knows this will set off another coughing fit, but he swallows it down. “The living area will be full of Southwestern aesthetics.”

Jesse chuckles. “You sure about that? I can go pretty overboard with the stuff I’ve had in mind for when I eventually moved out of the watchpoint.”

“I give you free reign,” Hanzo says with a smile. Then, that cough he tried suppressing earlier bursts forth, and there is nothing he can do but ride it out and hope that he survives this one too. When he recovers, Jesse is practically in his lap, keeping him upright. Tears are streaming down his face, he is speaking but Hanzo cannot hear him. 

Hanzo closes his eyes; he cannot see Jesse like this.

“Han, I need you to open your eyes. Please.”

Hanzo opens his eyes, the plea too heartbreaking to bear. 

Jesse nods, smiles. “Hey, it’s all right,” he breathes. “It’s all right.”

“What is all right?”

“You passed out. Your pulse was hard to find, it’s…” Jesse frowns, looks away for a moment. “You got any more you wanna tell me about your place?”

“Our place.” Hanzo looks at Jesse, and he nods. “Our place,” he repeats, swallowing down blood. “I want to have a small space for a traditional garden. A maple tree and an ornamental cherry tree, so we can have sakura blossoms in our backyard. A small section for chickens, maybe four or five, a place to sleep at night otherwise free range through the rest of the backyard.”

“Don’t know anythin’ ‘bout raising chickens,” Jesse says, and there is a hint of frustration in his voice. “Guess we could look it up. Ain’t like they’re a high maintenance pet.”

“It will not be difficult.”

“Then I’ll—” Jesse starts, huffing. He closes his eyes, frowns, then they shoot open, his hands grab Hanzo’s. “How long have you been unable to feel your legs?”

Hanzo looks down, where his legs sit nestled between Jesse’s, then back at Jesse. “When you found me.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!”

“What difference does it make?”

Jesse opens his mouth to speak, before shutting his mouth so hard and fast his teeth clack. He looks at Hanzo, his eyes well with tears and spill down his cheeks. “‘Cause you’re a shitton more worse than I thought you were.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, Hanzo, it’s not okay. I’ve been sittin’ here for the last five damn minutes pinching your leg, waiting for a response, and got nothing. That bar has probably fucked your spinal cord, and all this movin’ around you’ve been doing is the  _ worst _ thing for you. We might have the ability to repair damaged nerves, but it’s not a cure-all. You’re gonna have lasting damage, Han.”

“It will be fine.”

“You might not be able to walk again.”

“I might not make it out of here.” Hanzo looks at Jesse, at the way his lip quivers, at how his eyes well with tears. “It’s okay,” he says again.

“I hate this,” Jesse murmurs, dropping his head. “I hate seeing you in pain. I hate not being able to do anything. I hate sitting here, staring at that  _ fucking _ piece of shit comm and seeing nothing but that damned logo.” He looks up at Hanzo, takes a steadying breath. “I’d give my fuckin’ right arm to see all this undone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have one good arm—your gun arm. You would not be you without it.”

“Ain’t gonna matter if we’re gonna retire.”

“Jesse—”

“Hanzo, no. I’d fuckin’ trade spots with you if I could. I’d take the rebar…” he trails off, closes his eyes. “If only I’d opted to search this wing instead of the other.”

“Do not say that,” Hanzo whispers. “We don’t know if we would be facing the same situation had we swapped. I could be impaled on the other side of the building.”

“I could be impaled here, takin’ all this pain.”

“And I would be watching you die.” Hanzo licks his lips, they feel suddenly, overwhelmingly dry. “Do you think I enjoy watching you watch me die? Why do you think I didn’t tell you about my legs? I didn’t want to see the pain that is on your face right now. I want to see you smile.” Hanzo closes his eyes, opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He takes a breath, a breath as deep as he can take, and as soon as he takes in the smallest amount of air, he has to stop from the pain. “I want the last thing I see,” he starts, testing out his incredibly weak and shaky voice before continuing, “to be you smiling, not you angry.”

There is a moment of dead silence. Hanzo cannot feel Jesse’s hands. He cannot feel the burn in his chest. And when he has the thought that this is it, his eyes snap open, settling on Jesse, and in an instant, he can feel everything again.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse whispers. “I’m sorry for fucking up this time we have together.”

“You did not fuck it up.”

“I did. I’m here, cussin’ and yellin’ at you. At you. The guy—the love of my life—who is dying. What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“Jesse,” Hanzo whispers, squeezing Jesse’s hands. It happens slowly, he can practically feel the nerve endings respond, travelling from his brain, down his spinal cord, into arms and hands. It feels like seconds pass between thought and action. “Jesse,” he says again when Jesse looks at him. “It is okay.”

“How am I gonna function without you?” Jesse whispers. “You’re my reason for everything.” He looks away. “My reason for living.”

“Jesse, you cannot…” Hanzo tries to shake his head, but it just lolls to the side. He feels Jesse’s hands cup his face, his head upright again. “You must not…” his eyes slide closed, and now it is too hard to open them again.

“It’s okay, Han.”

“It’s not…” his voice is barely a whisper, something he can barely hear himself. He tries to open his eyes, but it is impossible. Breathing is getting difficult now, he knows he is not taking in enough oxygen to stay conscious for much longer. “Promise me…”

“Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Jesse…” a plea. A final plea because now he is scared. Scared of letting go. Scared of never seeing Jesse again. Images enter his mind, of kisses and hugs, their fingers weaved and foreheads pressed together. Feelings now, of Jesse's scratchy beard against his cheek, his neck, his thighs. Love. A love so strong, keeping him in place like a tether. He cannot let go of Jesse. He cannot lose him. “I… I lo…” The words die in his throat, and he tries in vain, again and again, to say it, but the words never fall from his mouth. In his mind, though, he finishes the statement.  _ I love you. _

“I’ve got you,” Jesse whispers. Warm lips press against Hanzo's forehead. “It’s okay, Han, I’ve got you.”

Hanzo nods, subtle, he is not entirely sure he has actually done it, but now, a final moment of peace, calm washes over him. There is no pain. He cannot feel Jesse. He sees Jesse in his mind, though, standing against a backdrop of white in an otherwise darkened room, smiling, tipping his hat in his typical send-off fashion. He wants to reach out, grab his hand, use him as an anchor to keep him in the present, but cannot reach him. Every step he takes, Jesse moves away. 

This is it. This is his goodbye.

“We’re here!”

“Oh, fuck… Hanzo. Hanzo? How long has he been…”

He frowns when he hears Angela's and Genji’s voices. He wonders if it is just wishful thinking, that it is a desperate attempt made by his subconscious to keep him here. 

But it is time. With a final breath, he turns his back on Jesse, and walks into the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pinky-promise each and every one of you that there is a happy ending!


	7. Renewal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 prompt: Anniversaries

Jesse sits on his bed, dressed in his nice pair of jeans, black chaps and blue plaid shirt. He's even wearing a brand new pair of boots, shining almost unnaturally in the light. They're too clean.

Smoothing his hands down his legs and over his knees, he notes that the leather on the chaps is still smooth, still thick in the knees. There isn't even a crease in them.

He wasn't lying when he told Hanzo that he only wore them on special occasions.

Thinking about Hanzo, he realises how sweaty his palm feels, and nausea roils around in his gut. He looks at the bathroom door, and for a brief moment wonders if he should just throw up so this feeling can go away.

But he is dressed in his nicest clothes, and it would be a shame to ruin them with splashes of vomit.

Instead, he paces up and down the room. His room. His and Hanzo’s room. He looks at the bed, neatly made save for the slightly ruffled patch he was sitting on, and looks away. This is going to be one of the last days he’s in this room. There are plans to leave, he’s just not sure when yet. A couple days, probably.

He goes over what he plans to say in his mind, over and over, practically reciting it like a mantra. Every repetition is tearing down walls he built, breaking promises that he won’t cry, be a bumbling mess in front of everyone.

He clenches his hands into fists. He is stronger than that, goddamnit.

Standing in front of the mirror, he stops pacing. His hair is combed back, his beard neatly trimmed. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out Hanzo's hair sash, refolds it neatly, before bringing it up to his nose, smelling the lingering hints of pomegranate on it. He closes his eyes as he breathes deep, brushing it against his lips as Hanzo floats into his mind.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looks at his ring, sitting on the ring finger of his right hand; black matte with a single set in ruby.  He twirls it around his finger, round and round and round, closing his eyes again and thinking about Hanzo—not in that moment, when he was injured, when he promised that he would wear his nice chaps if he made it out of that damned lab. No, a time when he was smiling, the time—

Jesse’s eyes shoot open when he hears a knock at the door. He looks at his ring, making sure the ruby is face up, before stuffing the scarf in his pocket and walking to his door, opening it.

“Ree,” Jesse breathes, embracing Fareeha the moment the door is clear.

“That bad, huh,” she says flatly, patting his sides.

“I’m so fuckin’ nervous.”

“Understandable. Public speaking was never your strongest suit.”

“I’ve done it before, don't know why I'm always so damned nervous about it.”

“You’ve done _this_ before,” she says, stepping inside. “Hell, you’re already married to the man, this is only renewing your vows. This is nothing compared to an actual wedding.”

“Don't like professing my love in front of an audience.”

“Says Mr. Public-Displays-Of-Affection,” she retorts.

Jesse chuckles, sitting back on the bed. He can think of at least ten moments in the last twenty four hours where he kissed Hanzo in public. “Y’got me there.” He looks at Ree, dressed in a white pantsuit which she looks absolutely stunning in. “Lookin’ good.”

“Thanks. I know you said casual, ‘cause this isn’t supposed to be a big thing, but I don’t get to dress up as often as I would like to.” She looks Jesse up and down. “I’m… surprised you’ve settled for pretty much your daily wear. Don’t you know what Hanzo is going to be wearing?”

“I don’t! Don’t spoil it!” Jesse says, covering his ears. Only once he is convinced Ree isn’t going to say anything does he uncover them. “I told him when we were on _that_ mission that I wear this on special occasions, he made the comment he’d never seen me in it. So of course I was gonna bust this out.” A smirk teases his lips. “He don’t know, either. Told him I’d wear a suit, even asked if I could borrow his blue tie, somethin’ I can make my ‘something borrowed and something blue’.”

Ree rolls her eyes and groans. “Jesse, you can’t _seriously_ be doing that again.”

“Of course! Something old is my ring. The real something blue is of course the shirt. Something new is the boots.”

“And your something borrowed?” she asks reluctant, like she actually doesn't want to hear the answer.

Grinning, Jesse pulls Hanzo’s hair scarf out of his pocket. “Was thinkin’ of wearing it to some degree, but I think it’ll fit nicely right here.” He opens the breast pocket of his shirt, tucking the folded up fabric inside. “So it’s close to my heart.”

“You can be so sappy sometimes,” she groans, rolling her eyes so over the top she might just dethrone Hanzo for biggest eye roll ever witnessed.

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll hunt you down and kill you,” he says in the most affectionate way.

“Mean,” she retorts. She flicks her hand upwards, and Jesse stands. She smooths her hands over his shoulders, down his chest. “At least you’re not wearing a serape.”

“I got _some_ class.”

“Says the man wearing chaps.”

“That ain’t all,” Jesse says with the waggle of his eyebrows, reaching over to his desk and picking up his hat, placing it on his head.

“Of course,” she replies flatly, her smile betraying the harshness of her tone.

“Don’t care what you think, as long as Hanzo likes it.”

“I’m sure he will. He married you, after all.”

“Yup,” Jesse says proudly, playing with his wedding band. He takes a deep breath, looking at the ring, then Ree. “I guess it’s time, hey?”

“Sure is.” She offers her elbow, and Jesse grins, taking it. “What?”

“Thanks for bein’ my best woman. Again.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Jesse winks at her, opening the door to his room. It closes behind them, and they walk the quiet corridors of the watchpoint until they are at the rear of the building, following the path to the small recreation area which overlooks the ocean. It’s nothing more than a rickety old gazebo, he painted it just for this occasion a week ago. Now it looks kind of nice, and a great parting gift for the watchpoint.

The air is cooler now, sitting on the edge of winter, but Jesse’s too nervous to really notice it. He can hear the voices of the rest of the watchpoint carry on the breeze, well before he can see them, and when his eyes settle on the gazebo, he smiles, before falling on the two figures standing a few feet away from the group.

He looks between the two of them, Genji dressed in a suit and Hanzo dressed traditionally in what he wore to their actual wedding, a black kimono and hakama, his left sleeve mirrors the dragon on his arm, his right sleeve similar to what is on is _gi_ , both in silver threading. Jesse’s heart flutters as he approaches, and it takes a surprising amount of restraint not to embarrassingly burst into tears. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Jesse breathes, embracing Hanzo.

“You are too,” Hanzo whispers. When the separate, he looks Jesse up and down, smirk teasing his lips. “You look better in person than in my mind.”

“Been hangin’ onto that image for a while, huh?”

“Well when we made it back you never did wear it. Nor during my recovery. And you were very heavy handed with your comments about wearing a suit that I started to believe that you were going to wear this.” Hanzo smooths his hands over Jesse’s chest, settling on his waist.

“Never could fool you, could I?”

“Never,” Hanzo responds, smirking.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hanzo whispers, standing on his toes and kissing Jesse softly.

“I think you are supposed to do that _after_ the ceremony, not before,” Genji says flatly.

“We can do it whenever we damn well please,” Jesse retorts, looking at Genji and smirking playfully. “And look at you. You _can_ get dressed up!”

“I can wear a suit,” he says, smoothing down his golden tie before adjusting the cuffs on his shirt. He lifts his chin, smirk teasing his lips. “And I know how good I look wearing it.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Jesse breathes. “Curse you and your good Shimada genes.”

“It is about finding the right suit,” Hanzo says. “Getting one tailored, instead of buying one off the rack.”

“Eh, too much effort for something I have literally worn a handful of times in my life.”

Genji rolls his eyes. “Come on, Ree, let’s go and get this thing started. I know Jesse is stalling for time.”

“Yep,” she breathes, smiling softly at Jesse. “You’ll be fine. This is nothing.”

“Yeah,” Jesse murmurs, nodding. “See you up there.”

She nods, offering her arm to Genji. He in turn offers his, and she links her arm with his in a way a pair of kids would. The only thing missing is the skipping.

“Children,” Hanzo breathes.

“Right?” Jesse says, turning to face him. “How are you holding up?”

“I am fine. You need to stop worrying.”

“I’ll always worry. You got hurt real bad.”

“That was six months ago.”

“And it’s taken that time for you to get your strength back.”

Six long, incredibly hard months. Officially, Hanzo did die out there. If Genji and Angie hadn’t arrived when they did, he wouldn’t be standing here right now. He had to be revived, and if not for the technology they have today, he wouldn’t have made it back. He was stabilised, transferred to the watchpoint, the rebar removed and after three transfusions, he was pulled out of his medically induced coma. The bar just missed his spinal cord, one of those ‘if it had been three millimetres to the left’ scenarios, and the damage was minimal, thankfully, caused in part to the pressure of the bar and fluid accumulation in the area. But he did have to relearn how to walk, vowing that he would walk on his own, without the assistance of a cane, by the time their fifth wedding anniversary rolled around.

He started physical therapy a month after the incident, real basic stuff while recovering from the infection and while he waited to fully regain his strength. It took another month before he tried his hand at walking, and Angie had to play the bad guy unfortunately, telling him that four months, while theoretically possible, was a very early estimate, and that it would likely take almost a year for him to walk unassisted.

Trust Hanzo, stubborn as a mule, to beat those odds and make it possible, to walk unassisted today, on their anniversary.

“I assume that if I offered my elbow,” Jesse says, “you wouldn’t wanna take it?”

Hanzo’s response is a raised eyebrow and his elbow, which Jesse gladly takes. With a final nod to Genji and Ree, still with their arms linked and now standing behind the small row of seats, they give a nod to Lucio, who starts up the music.

It’s a little over the top for vow renewal, but the team wanted to do something big for their anniversary, to celebrate the fact that Hanzo had fully recovered, and that they are retiring. One big party to celebrate three milestones.

There is no aisle to walk down—something Jesse was insistent on—instead they approach  from the side, heading up the small staircase to the gazebo and standing in front of everyone. Jesse tries not to make eye contact with the team, his emotions are frayed enough as it is. All it’ll take is to see the bumbling mess Reinhardt _and_ Winston are in to set Jesse off, and he really doesn’t wanna cry in front of everyone. It was bad enough Angie and Genji saw it six months ago.

Facing each other, they stand before Ana; Genji and Ree off to the side. Ana smiles at them, and Jesse nods, looking back at Hanzo. Hanzo smiles back, and Jesse squeezes his hands a little tighter.

“Thank you everyone for joining us on this special occasion,” Ana starts. “By both Hanzo and Jesse’s request, we are going to keep this brief. But first I do have a few words to say. When I was approached five years ago to officiate Jesse and Hanzo’s wedding, I couldn’t have been more proud. And when I was approached again to officiate this ceremony, I was blown away at just how much more proud of the two of you I am. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You two complete each other, you’re two perfect halves of a whole piece. You make each other so happy, you complement each other so well, and watching your friendship develop into love before our eyes six years ago, and watching that love transcend years, a marriage, a couple of close calls and a near death experience, has been an honour to witness. I think everyone will agree that there isn’t a couple more suited to each other than you two.”

Jesse blinks back tears, giving Ana a curt nod, a thanks. He looks back at Hanzo, Hanzo smiles wide, and Jesse takes a steadying breath, knowing full well he lost the bet and has to speak first. He clears his throat, looks at their joined hands for a moment, gathering his thoughts before meeting Hanzo’s eyes.

“Han. There are a few moments in a person’s life that they can call a defining moment. For me, there was meeting you for the _first_ time,” he says with a wink, indicating the _true_ first time they met. “There was kissing you. Askin’ you out. Consummating our relationship.” This one gets a groan out of who he assumes is Hana, which he promptly ignores. “Marrying you.” He takes a steadying breath, smiling softly. “And there was almost losing you. When I thought you’d slipped away, a part of me died. I decided in that moment that I couldn’t be alone, that I couldn’t live in a world without you, that I was gonna hunt down every last Talon goon with my bare hands, and if it got me killed, then so be it. I’d be seein’ you again anyways, what happened to me didn’t matter.” He swallows the lump in his throat, seeing Hanzo’s eyes well with tears—he had not told him any of this prior to now. “And when you came back, those thoughts disappeared. I had you in my arms again, and there was nothin’ I wanted more in that moment than to spend every single moment with you.”

Jesse looks at Ree, holds out his hand. She reaches into her pocket, places the plain white gold band in his palm. They got their fingers sized and the bands made to order so they wouldn’t be resized, a symbol of their eternal love. Ultra sappy, but whatever; it’s their little secret. The only modification made to the ring was the engraving on the inside; _my compass_.

Choking back a sob, Jesse grabs Hanzo’s right hand and looks into his eyes. “You are my rock, my compass,” he says, sliding the ring onto his ring finger. When it sits against his wedding band, Jesse adds, quiet, “I love you.”

Hanzo smiles, looking from the rings to Jesse. Jesse chuckles as a tear falls down Hanzo’s cheek, and Jesse cannot help but wipe it away with his thumb.

Grabbing Jesse’s hand again, Hanzo clears his throat and smiles. “You talked about defining moments in our lives. There are the moments you listed, and there are the smaller ones. The smiles from across the room. The winks from across the briefing table. The tip of your hat in salutation. The hugs in the rec room. The passionate embraces in bed. Every single one of them, for me, is a defining moment. Something I treasure and hold dear, close to my heart. I saw every single one of them in what I thought was my last moments in that laboratory. I fought, held onto hope that I would see your smiling face again. Hear your voice. Hold you in my arms.”

Hanzo pauses, smiles as he holds out his hand. Genji places an identical white gold ring into his hand, the inscription in that one is the kanji for ‘my guiding light’. He grabs Jesse’s right hand, places the ring on his finger, but stops at the base of his fingernail.

“My love for you transcends this physical realm. I thought of you, how much I wanted to hold you, kiss you, feel you, and I believe that is the reason why I held on for so long. Why I came back to you. You are my shining star, my guiding light.” Hanzo slides the ring down his finger. “I love you.”

Jesse holds back the tide of emotion he feels for Hanzo. He feels a love deep in his chest, something so strong and real, that has him feeling so giddy, so excited to kiss his man, his love. He looks at Ana, hoping she gets the hint, and she does, if the small smile and wink she gives is any indication.

“I feel no need to drag this out any longer than necessary,” Ana says, earning a chuckle from the crowd. “You may kiss your husband.”

Jesse’s sure he acted before she finished the statement, but that second was too long. Rushing forward, he cups Hanzo’s face and kisses him, kisses him like he wanted to kiss him six months ago, kissing him like his life depended on it, like it was their first kiss and their last kiss, all mixed into one. He doesn’t care that that it’s a bit much in front of everyone, he doesn’t care that _this_ is what earned him his nickname of ‘Mr. Public-Displays-Of-Affection’, there is no way he can’t _not_ kiss Hanzo this passionately after what he said.

Now that he knows the full story of ‘my guiding light’, he is sure he’ll never, ever love his man more than he does right now.

When the kiss finally recedes, he holds Hanzo tight. “I love you, so fucking much.”

“I love you too.”

When Jesse finally pulls away, the crowd cheers again. Jesse smiles, holds Hanzo close and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks at them, at each and every one of them and he can’t believe the saps _they_ are, every single one of them is crying. Even Morrison, the base’s grump, whose face looks so twisted trying to hold it all in he might just implode. Chuckling, Jesse takes a breath and smiles. “A’ight, everyone inside. It’s time to party!”

Jesse leads the way inside, a spread of finger food and alcohol all ready to go on the tables. Also on the table is a wrapped item, it’s large, thin, is most definitely a framed picture, and when he inspects it, Winston appears by his side.

“I thought we said no gifts,” Jesse says.

“We couldn’t resist,” Winston says sheepishly.

Jesse turns, and it seems everyone knew about this, if the excited grins are anything to go by. He looks at Hanzo, and he shrugs. It seems Hanzo doesn’t know about this either.

“When Jesse approached me when he got back from that mission,” Winston starts, “I honestly thought he was about to get physical. In all the years I’ve been working with him, I’ve never seen him so furious about something. To his credit, he was angry, but explained quite eloquently that he and Hanzo were done with their time in Overwatch.”

Jesse can’t help but laugh. “I believe I walked in, slammed my fist on the table and said, ‘fuck you, and fuck Overwatch. We’re done.’ before storming out again.”

“As I said, eloquent,” he chuckles. “Three days later, once Hanzo’s condition was changed from critical to stable, you apologised, and a week after that, once Hanzo had woken up, you explained that you and he wanted to retire. I, of course, tried to talk you out of it. I’m sure every single person here has tried, but you were sure; you were done living this life. It will be a shame to lose both you and Hanzo, but we completely understand and accept your decision to settle down.” Winston picks up the item and hands it to Jesse. “Good luck with your new life.”

Jesse can barely contain his grin as he hands the item to Hanzo so the both of them can unwrap it. Inside, is a picture frame containing one slip of paper, purely ornamental, reading: _I, Winston, Strike-Commander of New Overwatch, hereby change Jesse J. McCree-Shimada and Shimada-McCree Hanzo from active status to retired._ It is completed with the big guy’s signature and Jesse cannot help but grin.

“You got it framed and everything!” He looks at Winston. “This is honestly the best gift ever. Thank you.”

“It has been a pleasure having both of you on the team,” Winston says. “Your absence will be noted, and you will be missed.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, draping his arm over Hanzo’s shoulder, looking at him. “Reckon we’ll miss it too.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo breathes. “Our door will always be open for visitors.”

“What are your plans?” Winston asks.

Jesse looks at Hanzo and smiles. While six months ago it was an idea in Hanzo’s head, right this moment, the house itself is complete; all ready for them to move in. They have kept it a secret from most of everyone, with the exception of Genji, Ree and Ana, because at the time it wasn’t public knowledge that they were going to retire, and the last thing they needed was everyone bombarding him and Hanzo while Hanzo recovered.

When Hanzo looks up at him, Jesse holds Hanzo that little bit tighter and winks. “Well, it was actually Hanzo’s idea. Tell 'em, sweetheart.”    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, folks. This final chapter was always going to be a happy chapter, but my other idea was the anniversary of Hanzo's death, not in that lab but decades later. I was going to recap their lives from the lab, the vow renewal, their retirement, everything until that point leading to the one year anniversary, but after reading chapter six for the first time when doing my edits, I needed a happy ending, not a bittersweet one. 
> 
> I want to thank each and every one of you who has followed me on this journey over the past week. I truly am sorry for tormenting you, especially in this past 24 hours, and especially to the good folks in the Target Practice server, with all my cryptic teasing. Just know that I love you guys!! ❤
> 
> Aside from posting my two other McHanzo Reverse Bang pieces, I'm working on another piece, something NSFW, something spanning 30 days ;-). It (for the moment at least) is angst free, because after this I need to write something sweet and fluffy and naughty, just for my own sanity. The plan at this stage is to post the entire month of September. Keep an eye on my Tumblr, give me a follow if you're interested in little snippets, not only for the works I've mentioned, but all the others I've got on the backburner. 
> 
> Thanks again, and I'll see you out there!  
> \--Chillie ❤

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://chilliebean5.tumblr.com/), where I post snippets of upcoming works! Come say hi!


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